And two things⁠—as he came down to welcome me and pull up the canoe⁠—leaped up in my mind unbidden, as though connected in some way I could not at the moment divine⁠—first, the curious judgment formed of him by Joan; and secondly, that fugitive expression I had caught in his face while Maloney was offering up his strange prayer for special protection from Heaven.

The delicacy of manner and feature⁠—to call it by no milder term⁠—which had always been a distinguishing characteristic of the man, had been replaced by something far more vigorous and decided, that yet utterly eluded analysis. The change which impressed me so oddly was not easy to name. The others⁠—singing Maloney, the bustling Bo’sun’s Mate, and Joan, that fascinating half-breed of undine and salamander⁠—all showed the effects of a life so close to nature; but in their case the change was perfectly natural and what was to be expected, whereas with Peter Sangree, the Canadian, it was something unusual and unexpected.